


Macula

by MoonBuns (Yogso_thot)



Category: A Hat in Time (Video Game)
Genre: (cockblocked :( ), Consent is Sexy, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I just wanted some snatcher smut contaminated with feelings, Masturbation in Shower, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vanessa is only mentioned, and past trauma, he's got bottom vibes, he's like the bob ross of smut, it is the chuck tingle way, kind of, prince snatcher, so here u go, sub snatcher?, there's no plot but there's feelings, write the smut you want to see in the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-23 13:06:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23211973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yogso_thot/pseuds/MoonBuns
Summary: A recent event reveals that your boss has some past trauma to work through, you're more than happy to help.
Relationships: Snatcher (A Hat in Time)/Reader
Comments: 30
Kudos: 241





	Macula

There is nothing worse than seeing your boss in a non-work environment. Or at least, that's what you had thought, barely a day ago.

Your boss, for lack of a better term, was a giant ghost who was keeping your soul hostage while forcing you to do menial labour. It sounds a lot like retail, except it isn't. Actually, after having worked at a shop yourself, you would say that this was better, not having to deal with annoying customers. Yeah it was creepy and you weren't getting paid, but since you currently didn't have a soul, you didn'y have to do bothersome things like eating or sleeping, and that left you with a lot of free time to do whatever you wanted.

For example: currently you were using your free time to run, with your boss slung over your shoulder, away from a creepy old mansion. Fun!

He had been kidnapped. _Kidnapped_. A ghost, a powerful one no less, had just- been kidnapped. You trudged through the snow, muttering curses under your breath and willing the snowstorm to go away with the sheer force of your spite. You couldn't believe you were the one saving him. You, the one he had been practically enslaving for months. And who even wanted to kidnap a ghost, anyways? Who wanted to kidnap _this_ ghost? He was an asshole! But: he was an asshole who still had your stupid soul, so off you went, to the clearly haunted mansion, to rescue the idiot. Nevermind that his minions had been crying uncontrollably since his kidnapping, you just wanted your soul back, dammit!

So you had gone into the creepy mansion, ran for your life from the scary woman and finally – _finally_ – found the useless idiot chained up in the dungeon, of all places. At least, and though you had found it terribly odd, he wasn't in his usual form. This one was smaller, thankfully, as you wouldn't have been able to sling him over your shoulder otherwise, and looked very human-like. His new form was humanoid, he would have looked like any other person if it wasn't for his – still purple – coloration and his stupid face. You would recognize that irritating face anywhere.

Though this turn of events was useful for you at the moment, you worried about what was wrong with him. After all, if this form had affected his powers in any way, who was to say he could return your soul to you? Whatever the terrifying woman had done to him, or why, she had gone crazy the moment you had left the manor. You hadn't seen it, but you had felt the snowstorm pick up and a sound that could have either been a wailing of despair or a scream of rage coming from the manor.

You walked faster.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you reached your home. It had been built inside a hollow tree, like the houses at the village, but it was in a more secluded area of the forest, just as you liked it. Your first thought had been to take your boss to his own home, but the snowstorm had reached even here, and you didn't think it wise to walk even further out in the cold. You were already shivering despite your soulless state – you had hoped that, just as you didn't have to eat or sleep, you wouldn't feel the cold, but you had no such luck – and it would have been stupid to collapse from the cold out there while having your house nearby. So here you were. In your home. With your, still unconscious, boss.

Great, just great.

Maybe he'd wake up in a bad mood and kill you for your efforts, who knew. At least then he'd end your suffering.

You dropped him onto the sofa – you had a bed, despite not having to sleep, but it was _your_ bed – like a particularly foul sack of potatoes, and went straight to the shower. Maybe the hot water would help you regain some feeling in your extremities. The way the house was built, everything was one open space except, thankfully, the bathroom. You had wanted to keep an eye on the Snatcher, especially since you didn't like the thought of him being on your house, but it couldn't be helped. Your current clothes were soaked through and cold, and you didn't want to find out if you could catch a cold or not.

The shower, after trudging through a snowstorm, felt fantastic, and you couldn't help but let out a sigh as the warmth flooded back into your body. There was nothing better than a hot shower after a cold day outside, even the initial burning against your cold skin had felt so good you didn't want it to end. What you had only meant to be a few minutes stretched into more, as your hands traveled down and a shiver of pleasure went down your spine. How long had it been since the last time, you wondered? You hadn't had company since you had arrived in this wretched forest and that idi- oh. Suddenly, you remembered that yes, in fact, your boss was only one door away from you and that this was probably wildly inappropiate. Still- it wouldn't be too long until you finished, and he was knocked out anyways, who knew when he would wake up?

You set your fingers to work faster, leaning on the wall for support and trying to be quiet. Your other hand trailed up to pinch at your nipple, and you had to bite your bottom lip to muffle a moan. Your face burned red with arousal and shame, as your silence meant that you could hear better the other sounds in the bathroom, them being the shower and the wet noises your fingers made everytime you drove them inside you. You were so wet, and you weren't even trying to think of any fantasy. It must have been a long while, indeed.

You let the hand that had been at your nipple roam down to rub circles against your clit. You could already feel your orgasm coming, you just needed a little push and-

The sound of clattering outside made you pause instantly, your heart beating fast and your breath still shallow after your private moment. For a second the thought of finishing anyways crossed your mind, you were so _close_ \- But you discarded the idea instantly. If the Snatcher had woken up, you didn't want him messing around with your things.

Getting out of the shower you discovered that, in your haste to get in, you had forgotten to grab any clothes. Cursing uder your breath, you grabbed your bathrobe, it's not like your boss was interested in that sort of thing, anyways. If there was one good thing to say about the Snatcher as a boss, it was that he had never harrassed you like that. True, your expectations were low and easy to meet, but the sad truth was that not many people managed to meet them anyways.

You came out of the bathroom to find the Snatcher huddled in the blanket you had spread over him before, which struck you as odd. The guy had always been, well, obnoxious, and to see him like that was bizarre. Still, you walked up to him, stopping only a few steps away from were he was – wedged between the sofa and the low table. He looked sad, for someone who had just cockblocked you. You found it hard to feel any pity for him for a few seconds, and then you sighed and your shoulders sagged with the motion.

“Hey,” you said, sitting on the low table, as far away from him as possible. He _did_ just get kidnapped, and you didn't want to scare him or anything. Because you shouldn't do that to victims of kidnapping, and because he still had your soul, and you didn't feel like kicking the bucket just yet.

He whimpered – actually, honest-to-god, whimpered – and hugged his knees tighter. You stayed silent, not knowing what to do in this situation, and took this time to observe him better. He still hadn't changed to his usual form, which you were grateful for, because he wouldn't have fit in your house otherwise and he'd made a mess of it. From your vantage point, you could see one ear – fascinating, considering that he usually had zero of those – and part of his chin. His hair stopped just a bit over his shoulders, and his bangs covered the part of his face that wasn't buried between his knees. The hands that were hugging his knees had five fingers each. You scooted a bit closer, curious, and he flinched at the sound, looking up at you with wild panic written all over his face. Finally, after a few seconds, he looked around slowly, relaxing a bit when his eyes landed back on you.

“You're not Vanessa,” he stated. By the tone, you thought it was meant to be a joke, but the way his voice wavered broke the illusion.

You wondered who Vanessa was – the woman at the manor, maybe? – but decided against asking. You had never had to save anyone from any traumatic events, but you liked to think that you knew better than to go poking into what had happened to him after such a short time. Maybe you'd never ask him. As long as he could give you back your soul, it was none of your business.

Unless she came back for him, in which case you'd have to get him back again and it would be a pain in the ass and, ultimately, your business.

“What gave it away?” you answer, unable to keep the annoyance out of your voice. Boss or not and as much as you wanted to be gentle, you _had_ been forced to walk through a snowstrom and then had been rudely interrumpted, so you felt like you were a bit entitled to your pettiness. It helped that he didn't look so pitiful now that he had realized where he was.

The Snatcher huffed, finally straightening up and narrowing his eyes at you. His face was that of a young man, handsome even, and you found yourself distracted looking at him despite the oddity of his purple skin.When he said nothing, merely watched you from his blanket cocoon on the floor, you cleared your throat and averted your eyes, feeling awkward.

“So when are you changing back?” you asked, for lack of a better conversational topic. The Snatcher's eyes narrowed even further, and you realized, all of a sudden, why he was so moody. “You _can't_ -”

“I can!” he cut you off. “Just- Not yet.”

You both fell silent after that. The storm had grown even more violent, and you could hear the wind outside, rustling your windows. You could only hope that the snow wouldn't trap you in. It's not like you needed food or anything, so you wouldn't die if it did, but the thought of being trapped here with _him_ of all people didn't appeal to you. The Snatcher was the one who finally broke the silence.

“You better not be waiting for a 'thank you', because you aren't getting it.”

You stared at him for a few seconds. In other circumstances, your answer would have been an inmediate 'yes sir!' but right now, seeing him bundled up in blankets, and still in that less-impressive humanoid shape... you couldn't bring yourself to it. “Sure,” you said, and turned back to keep watching the scenery through the window. That is, until his chest blocked your view of the swirling whiteness, making you frown and look up.

“What was that?” he asked in a deceptively calm tone. You had heard him use it only a few times, and it usually meant that he was very pissed off.

Sitting on your low table, with a very powerful ghost towering over you – now that he was standing you could see that, even in this smaller form, he was taller than you – you started to feel nervous. Even if he didn't look like it anymore, the Snatcher could still give you a very hard time and laugh at your suffering. He had never punished you before, as you tended to finish your odd jobs in a timely manner, and you didn't make mistakes, but you'd heard his minions complain about their punishments, and you didn't feel like experiencing those. You swallowed as he leaned down, down, until his narrowed eyes were boring into yours.

You didn't know what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn't what happened next. His eyes darted down for a fraction of a second – you had felt your bathrobe open a bit a while ago, but had welcomed the fresh air after the warmth of the shower – and then widen as he let out a little 'eep!' and took a few steps back, looking at the ceiling. “Wh-what are you wearing?! Cover yourself immediately!” he demanded in a shrill voice. His face, still looking up, was glowing yellow-orange, as were his ears.

You were stunned for a few seconds, and then you had to cover your mouth to stifle a snort of laughter.

The Snatcher was outraged. “This is no laughing matter! A proper lady shouldn't walk around like that, or invite men into her home. It's improper!”

That was it, you couldn't hold it in anymore. He sounded like an old lady. You burst into peals of laughter, doubling over yourself, which gave the Snatcher a very interesting view when he dared to look back at you with the intention of scolding you. He glowed even brighter than before, and covered his face with his hands. From where you stood you though you could hear, muffled by your laughter, the high pitched sound of an animal dying. Or a kettle.

Oh, oh, this was _delightful_. He was shy, a prude, of all things. You couldn't believe that the ghost who had scared you shitless for months was now cowering at the sight of your cleavage. This must have been the first time in your life you had actually felt empowered by exposing your boobs. And then, the thought occurred to you: hey, why not have a little vengeance? He had you at his beck and call for months, mocking your inability to do anything about it. Now it was _your_ turn to laugh.

You let the bathrobe slid a bit more open as you straightened, and then crossed your legs in a deliberate motion, feeling the fabric hitch up further up your thighs. Then, schooling your face into the most clueless expression you could muster, you asked, “oh? And why is that?”

The Snatcher uncovered his face, took one look at you, and promptly turned his whole body towards the wall to your left, where the unused kitchenette was. “That's because- Because it's dangerous to-”

“Uh-uh?” you prompted, getting up and walking up to him. You stayed at his side, where he could see you from the corner of his eye while still facing the kitchenette, but definitely too close for his comfort. At this distance, you could feel the cold emanating from him. You hadn't expected him to be warm, being a ghost, as corporeal as he was, but it still felt odd.

He visibly swallowed. “Well, you don't know what a strange man- what _I_ could do to you!”

Oh, you had a very good idea of the things he could do to you, from torture to every posible death under the sun, but sexual assault had never been in that list. Honestly, it had never even crossed your mind before. Seeing him react to your bathrobe – which wasn't even all that revealing – had only cemented your belief that the thought of touching you had probably never even occurred to him. You didn't know why, but this thought annoyed you for some reason. However, making him squirm was more important right now, so you pushed it to the back of your mind for future revision, and took another step towards him. Now the fabric of the shirt he was wearing barely grazed your exposed skin, making you shiver.

“Tell me, then. What would you do to me?” you said in a whisper, almost like you were sharing a secret. Your efforts were rewarded by a catch in his breath and the twitch of his hands as he tensed. Then he turned towards you, and his arm brushed against your nipple with the quick motion. He didn't seem to have noticed, but you certainly did, and you realized what a mistake to rile him up it had been when you felt your previous arousal come back to you with a vengeance. Your breath caught in your throat as he looked down at you, completely flustered.

“Wha-what are you trying to do?” he demanded, though his angry tone was subdued by his stuttering.

He never got an answer, as the next thing you did was grab him by his stupid cravat and pull him down. His lips crashed against yours with too much force and at an awkward angle, but you were quick to release the silky fabric and use one of your hands to guide his chin into a better position. The other went to the back of his head, and before you knew it, you were pressed flush against him.

After a few seconds, you felt one of his hands tentatively rest at your waist, which you rewarded with a moan of encouragement. Deepening the kiss made him grab onto the fabric of your bathrobe, and you heard a small whimper.

It made you remember the situation, and you stopped kissing him, ashamed of yourself. Asshole ghost or not, he had just been kidnapped by a crazy lady, and here you were assaulting him because it had been too long since the last time someone touched you. However, when you went to take a step back, you found that his hand was still fisted around a handful of your bathrobe, and he didn't seem like he would let go of it any time soon. He was frowning, looking somewhere over your shoulder, and his lips were pursed, but rather than looking displeased, he looked lost.

“Is this okay?” you asked, whispering like he was a wild animal that you didn't want to scare off. “Do you want me to stop?”

It took him a bit to collect himself and give you an answer. “No. No, I- You're warm.”

You didn't exactly know what he meant by that. Did he mean he was cold? Because you could think of other ways to keep him warm that wouldn't result in sexual harrassment charges for you, namely: a blanket. He didn't give you time to dwell on this, as the sudden feeling of his free hand caressing the skin between your neck and shoulder brought you out of your musings. His eyes were fixed on your exposed skin, seemingly fascinated by the touch, or maybe the warmth it gave off.

Perhaps sensing your gaze, he looked up and prompty swallowed again when he risked a glance towards your lips. You got the hint easily and, way gentler this time, you closed the distance yet again. The hand that was still grabbing your bathrobe tightened, and then fell down as he relaxed into the kiss with a sigh. You mourned its loss, though not for long, as he brought it up to your back to hold you even closer. His first hand was joined by the other, which shyly crept its way up your hip to grab on to your waist. Gingerly, at first, then a bit harder as you decided this might be a good time to introduce him to the wonders of a french kiss.

He tensed for a moment when your tongue licked at his lower lip, then moaned when you bit it and, finally, practically melted in your arms as you slid it into his mouth. It was cold, at first, but it warmed up pretty quickly, and after a bit he gathered enough confidence to caress your tongue with his own. You sighed in content, to let him know that you liked this, and because you had been delighted to find that it had been forked, a detail to file away for future reference.

Eventually you decided that it was time to move into a more comfortable position, as you neck was getting sore from looking up, and you could imagine his back felt a similar way. You pushed him away gently, earning a noise of protest. He looked down at you with half-lidded eyes, his breath coming out in short little puffs.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked quietly. He looked so worried that you couldn't help tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear, cupping his face and pecking him on the lips. He relaxed marginally, and kissed the palm of your hand.

You tried not to let your surprise at this action show. “Nothing's wrong but- my neck is getting stiff. Should we move to the sofa? Or the bed, maybe?” you asked, with a tilt of your head.

Your words made him flush with embarrassment yet again, and he struggled to answer, opening and closing his mouth like a fish on land. He looked to the side again, frowning. “I- uh. I've never-”

Oh. _Oh_. Well, it was good to know. You had to scratch a few plans for the night, but it didn't mean that your fun was ruined. It explained a lot of things. You'd had your suspicions, but it was good to have them confirmed, you wouldn't want to make this a bad first experience for him on accident.

“Nothing at all? Was the kiss-?”

“Of course not! I've been kissed before, fool!” he interrupted. “We- I just never... went all the way.”

“That is alright,” you reassured, seeing his discomfort. “We don't have to do anything you don't want to, okay?”

You gave him time to consider and, after a bit, he nodded. You appraised the sofa and, finding it too narrow – you wouldn't mind being on top of him but he would probably combust on the spot – you decided on the bed. You tugged at his hand, making sure to hold it loose enough that he could get out of your hold if he wished to, and he followed. You hadn't expected him to be so- _obedient_ would be the word, you guessed, though that made you feel a bit uncomfortable. What had happened in that Manor? And what had this Vanessa done to him to make him act this way?

You turned around when you reached the bed and looked up at him. “Alright?” You wanted to make sure that he wanted this, it wouldn't do if he was doing it because he felt obligated to – before, you would have laughed at the thought of someone forcing the Snatcher to do something he didn't want, but now you weren't so sure – or, god forbid, as thanks for getting him out of the manor.

He tugged his hand free and looked over your shoulder at the bed with an unreadable expression, then back at you. For a moment you thought that he was going to say no and did your best to ignore the sharp stab of dissappoinment, then you felt his finger tracing a line from the hollow of your throat and over your clavicle. It paused under the bathrobe as he stared down at you, pensive. You had never seen him without that goofy smile, even when he was angry, so seeing his blank face was quite unnerving. You stopped thinking as the finger suddenly resumed its path, pushing the fabric away and making your heart beat faster at the prospect of it falling and-

It didn't. It was left at the verge of falling off, and you made a displeased noise, getting impatient. You watched, puzzled, as he froze upon hearing it. His shoulders tensed up as if waiting for something, and he kept his eyes carefully trained away from your face. That was... odd. You didn't understand how a sound of disappointment could make someone react like that, and you were starting to rethink this whole business. Clearly, something had happened in his past that made him uncomfortable with this whole ordeal, which was probably why he had never, in his words 'gone all the way'.

This didn't last for long though, as you saw his face turn to anger – at you or himself, you didn't know – and his narrowed eyes finally landed back on you. Not knowing very well how to react, you reached up and caressed the hand still resting over your chest and shoulder, lifting one eyebrow in a silent question. He answered by leaning down to kiss your newly exposed skin, making his way slowly up your neck. His mouth was cold again, you guessed it had lost some warmth after a bit. It had made you shiver and grab his shirt for support, your other hand coming to rest at the back of his head, encouraging. His hair was softer than you had expected, and you found yourself running your fingers through it as his mouth grew warmer and his kisses open mouthed. His hands hadn't moved from where they had been, one still over your shoulder, the other on your back, as if he was afraid of going lower. That could be fixed later, but for now- well, you hadn't moved over here to keep kissing while standing up, had you?

You tugged at his shirt as you took a step back and he gave a jolt – of surprise? Or perharps something else? – and immediately stopped, looking at you with wide eyes. “Bed?” you said, and he nodded, swallowing.

He followed you with his eyes as you propped all your cushions to make yourself comfortable and leaned back, patting the place right beside you as an invitation. Finally, he took off his boots and made his way towards you, though he sat on his knees facing you rather than sitting. He stroked his hands over his thighs in a gesture that once might have been to clean his sweaty palms, but now looked like a nervous habit, and again, refused to look directly at you. Leaning forward, you took his face into your hands and kissed him, heavy and thorough, as you slowly leaned back into your pillows, taking him down with you. He put one of his hands down beside you to keep himself from falling directly over you, and the other found it's way back at your waist, hesitant.

While any other time you would have been delighted at seeing the gentle – and subsequently exploitable – side of your ghostly boss, you were getting quite impatient. It was time to take drastic measures.

You pressed a hand against his chest and gently pushed him back until you had enough space to move. This earned you a small whimper of protest that died out as he saw you push the fabric of the bathrobe off your shoulders, leaving your chest exposed. You took one of his hands and thought, smugly, as you pressed it against your breast and his face started glowing in embarrassment again, that this would hopefully let him know how you felt about him touching you. Hopefully.

His hand moved, tentatively, as he brushed his thumb over your nipple. He moved closer, shifting so one of his knees was now between your legs. His face was so close to you that you could feel his cold breath over your sensitive skin, making your nipple harden. The Snatcher took his sweet time exploring your breasts with his hands, caressing reverently and seemingly memorizing every inch of you. Finally, he pinched one of your nipples a bit harder and you let out a needy moan, lifting your leg until it pushed against his groin. He made a strangled sound, pushing down, and then froze, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

“I- I'm sorry.” His voice sounded so small that, if it hadn't been only the two of you in the room, you would had thought it came from somebody else.

To say that you were confused would have been an understatement. What was there to be sorry about? More importantly, where was this ability to feel sorry when he had sent you to clean the stupid well? You frowned, and brushed your thigh against his crotch again, pleased to find that he was already hard. He made another strangled sound and buried his face against your neck, trembling. His hands, you realized, were bunched tight around a handful of sheets.

Well, this wouldn't do. You didn't know what bullshit his past partners had pulled, but – if your guess was right – he shouldn't feel bad about his own pleasure. This was supposed to be something the two of you should enjoy, not you specifically. You peppered his neck with kisses, or at least, the part of it you could reach with his face now smushed against the cushion that you were leaning on. The Snatcher shivered and you noticed with satisfaction how his hands loosened, if only a bit. One of your hands caressed its way down his side, stopping as you reached his pants and slid one finger between the fabric and his skin and he tensed. You waited for a moment, leaving him time to tell you to stop if he wanted to, but he said nothing, instead relaxing back again. Taking this as permission to continue, you were content to follow the path of the fabric until you reached the front and paused again.

“Is this okay?”

It took him a moment, but you felt his head nod and his tresses tickle against your cheek. You kissed his neck again, this time sucking and dragging your tongue over the sensitive skin, enjoying his muffled sounds. You had a moment of frustration when you couldn't get rid of the belt fast enough, but it wasn't long lasting, and soon his pants were unzipped and you could slid your hand down-

The Snatcher gasped as your hand closed around his erection and, most likely in an involuntary movement, grinded down, pausing mid-action. He pushed himself up, looking at you with a horrified expression, and opened his mouth, perhaps to apologize yet again, though this time you didn't let him. You tugged him down by his ridiculous cravat, silencing him with your mouth and enjoying the way his body settled against yours. You had less space to maneuveur the hand still groping his erection, but you liked this better anyways. You had missed the feeling of a body pushed tight against you, leaving as little space as possible-

But you were getting ahead of yourself.

You experimentally dragged your hand up and down his length and stopped kissing him long enough to confirm once more that he was okay with this, to which he nodded with a determined expression. He was flushed yet again and his hair was a mess and you were pretty sure that if he kept that act up you wouldn't be able to hold yourself back anymore. So you decided to distract yourself with... other things.

Jerking him off proved to be too much for him, as his ability for kissing had waned and he had ended up with his face buried back in your neck, kissing it sporadically and giving the occasional thrust. You didn't mind though, he surprisingly made the most delicious sounds. You were more annoyed at the fact that he kept stopping himself. Again, his past experiences seemed to get in the way, which was something you wouldn't allow to go on. His voice, however, interrupted you before you could do something about it.

“W-wait, I- Stop.”

You stopped immediately, letting his dick go with a modicum of disappointmet and apprehension. Did you do something to make him uncomfortable? Did he change his mind?

The Snatcher lifted himself off of you, and you felt a small stab of disappointment at how short lived your little rendez-vous had been. Then your breath caught as you felt his cold hands settle above your knees and creep up to your thighs. You had involuntarily closed your eyes to better enjoy the sensation, but opened them again when he stopped, inches away from where you really wanted them. You couldn't exactly complain against the view, though.

He knelt between your knees, dishevelled, his cravat askew and his eyes half-lidded. His hair was a complete and utter mess to boot. None of this seemed to bother him, though, as his attention lay solely on you. He swallowed.

“Can I-?” he started, only to be interrupted by you.

“Knock yourself out.”

To further prove your point, you leaned back on the cushions and spread your legs a bit further, moving your arms to rest, loose and relaxed, above your head. The inclination the cushions provided meant that you could comfortably watch, eyes half-lidded, his every movement.

He hesitated for a moment, as if unused to have that much agency, then removed one of his hands from your thigh to place it under your knee. He leaned down, kissing and pulling the leg further upwards, spreading you wider as a result. You watched with bated breath as he kissed further up, slowly, painstakingly. Fidgeting in an attempt to make him hurry up only made his hands tighten and, on a more positive note, it earned you a warning bite on your inner thigh.

Your bathrobe, miraculously, was still covering your lower body, something that he promptly solved with an annoyed frown when his kissing was interrumpted by the obstacle. Your sound of protest at being left completely bare without so much as a by-your-leave fell apart as you felt a cold, slick pressure against your folds. You opened your eyes, which had fallen closed at some point and confirmed that yes, there was a yellow forked tongue licking away at you. Oh, God. Oh, _shit_ -

His hands, still gripping your inner thighs, tightened roughly as you attempted to move, and he growled in warning. The sound traveled to his tongue as he continued to lap languidly, his eyes closed, seemingly enjoying himself. Oh, well, if he found it so pleasant, who were you to stop him? You whimpered as his tongue ventured further and he nuzzled your clit with his nose. For someone who had never gone 'all the way', he was pretty good at this. A particularly loud moan from you was greeted with a pleased hum and the feeling of a finger sinking into you. His clever mouth moved up to suck at the bundle of nerves as he fingered you, and he was soon able to introduce a second digit, much to your pleasure. The fact that you were practically dripping already – something that you attributed to the lack of sex in these past months – meant that he had no difficulty pushing further and further, and if he kept this going, you would be coming embarrassingly soon. You were already starting to feel the warmth in your lower belly, spreading and tingling, and you knew that you were getting alarmingly close.

For some reason, you didn't want to come like this. You suspected that he would stop once you were done, and you frowned at the thought of him leaving himself unattended. His reactions from before and his eagerness to please with his mouth and fingers, foregoing his own pleasure, even shying away from it, painted an ugly picture. Had his past partner been so inconsiderate as to completely ignore his needs? No, that wouldn't do.

“I- Ah! Sna-Snatcher.”

Speaking while he continued his ministrations proved to be quite difficult, and he didn't seem prone to stopping. He hummed questioningly to let you know he was listening, but otherwise the rythmic sound of his slick fingers inside you kept filling the room. Further attempts to talk were fruitless, as you could barely think like this, let alone form a coherent sentence. Finally, exasperated, you reached down to pull at his hair. It had been a gentle tug, barely a pull, but he immediately stilled as if struck. As he had yet to move a muscle, you tugged yet again, careful not to be too rough, and he finally looked up. His lips were a thin line, and he had gone back to avoiding your gaze, much to your chagrin. You coaxed him up, noticing how his body tensed and how he had flinched when you had gone to touch him. Oh, you were angry. Not at him, but angry nonetheless. What kind of lover left these sequels on their partner?

You kissed him, slow and deep, until you felt him relax against you again, caressing his sides and smiling into the kiss when it made him shiver.

“I quite enjoyed it,” you reassured him, and watched as the last remains of the tension ebbed away.

Cupping his face with your hands, you cooed. “You were doing very good, so very good. You almost made me come like that.”

“But you didn't-” he said, a pleasant orange glow tinted his features.

“I want something else, right now,” you answered, and watched as he realized what you meant. The Snatcher looked rather uncomfortable for a moment, fidgeting in place, which was unfair, as you were the one completely naked. Well, at least _that_ you could solve. “Mind if I take off your shirt?” you asked, hoping to distract him for a bit as you figured out how to approach his apparent issues. He nodded and you resumed kissing him as you got rid of his cravat and started undoing the buttons. The skin under his shirt was, yet again, the exact same shade of purple, and you couldn't resist the urge to nip at his collarbone, sucking and trying to see if you could leave a mark. You watched with satisfaction the dark blue spot that had appeared and licked the sensitive skin, eliticing another whimper from the Snatcher. Pleased with your work, you let yourself fall back on the cushions, pulling him down with you.

Any sound of protest he may have had at such rough handling died in his throat as you ground up and his erection came in contact with your slick folds. The tip pushed at your lower stomach, demanding, and you absolutely would not mind if he pushed it inside you instead and-

“I'm- I'm not sure this... I mean you don't have to-”

His words interrupted your train of thought and you stopped your second attempt at rubbing your clit against his hardness. What did he mean? _Have to_? What? You frowned, confused, although you had an inkling thought as to where this came from. Cupping his face yet again, you asked, “what do you mean?”

He shifted his gaze, fidgeting. Or well- as much as he could, considering that he was still on top of you and moving too much meant resuming certain activities. “I understand if you don't want-”

“I want to, though,” you interrupted. You made sure to look into his eyes to convey the truth of that statement. You _really_ wanted to. “Why wouldn't I?” You'd think that grinding your wet pussy against a guy's dick was proof enough, but hey, you could be mistaken.

“W-well it's- Isn't it a bit... off putting?”

You realized with surprise that he was talking about his dick, and your brain stopped working for a second. You had thought you couldn't get angrier at his past partner, you had been mistaken. “Is that what your past lover told you?” you asked, your voice a whisper. You hoped he wouldn't notice the anger coursing through those words like an undercurrent.

“Ah, well, she used to say it was 'disgusting'. That's why we never- you know. Hah, ha, ha.. ha...”

His weak attempt at humour died upon seeing your stormy expression. Oh, what a bitch. That wasn't even remotely okay. What right did she have to make someone self-conscious about their own body like that? How many times had she told him his body revulsed her, to ingraniate the thought so much that he would still think himself 'off-putting' to this day? Hell, if she ever found out who had done this- Let's just say it wouldn't be pretty. It didn't matter that the Snatcher had been her asshole of a boss for the past months, nobody deserved to be treated like that. You had a lot of damage to undo.

With renewed determination, your grip on his face tightened enough to make him look back at you again. He looked like a deer in the headlights as you leaned in, slowly, and said, “well _I_ don't care what she said. _I_ want you to fuck me.”

The Snatcher spluttered at your words, his face glowing bright. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to form a coherent string of words, but nothing seemed to come to him. Finally, you took pity of the poor ghost and let his face go in favour of resting your hands on his shoulders and leaning closer to nuzzle his cheek. After a few moments of regaining his composure, he muttered something, although too low for you to hear.

“What did you say?”

He frowned, annoyed, and you were relieved to see his normal self resurface from the dark place he had been in. “I said that I- That I want t-to-”

“Awww,” you teased, “you can't even say it out loud?”

“Sh-shut up, fool! I'm going to pound you into the mattress!” Aggravated by your teasing, his old self came back with a vengeance, and you found yourself being pressed down as he leaned his weight over you. Not enough to be uncomfortable for you, but definitely enough to feel the cold press of his cock back where it should have been all along. You wriggled a bit under him, rubbing your clit against his hardness and sighing at the pleasant sensation. He indulged you for a bit, kissing your neck yet again and mimicking your previous motions as he also grinded down. No doubt tomorrow you would find quite a few marks on your neck, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. One of his hands came to rest at your waist yet again, although this time you were surprised when it started sliding down until it could squeeze your ass, using it as leverage to press you even closer to him.

It didn't last long however; you had managed to get his pants and underwear off and it wasn't long until he was pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance. You desperately wanted to reach down towards his ass to push him inside you already, but at the same time you wished to be patient and let him set the pace. It was his first time doing this, after all, and you didn't want to make him feel bad. You didn't know how long your self-restraint would last, though.

As it turned out, you wouldn't be able to find out, because he soon started to push inside. He was being slow, stopping until he was sure that you were stretched enough to be comfortable. You didn't know wether to be annoyed by the pace, or to be touched by the odd show of cosideration. In the end, your impatience won, and you wrapped your legs around him and pushed him the rest of the way in. He gave a stuttering breath, the elbow that he was using to prop himself up enough not to cursh you wavered under his whole weight as he went slack and buried his face in the crook of your neck. The other hand, that hadn't left your ass yet, loosened for a moment before squeezing harder.

You stayed like that for a few seconds that felt like an eternity, until he gave a small, tentative, thrust, and then things were officially in motion.

“So warm,” he muttered under his breath, his cheek pressed against yours as he pulled out, only to quickly thrust forward again. He seemed to marvel at your warmth, and his hands, so hesitant before, had started to map your body reverently.

He had set a slow pace at first, driving you mad with how you could feel him move inside you with excruciating detail, though he soon started to gain speed until the slap of skin against skin, the slick sounds as he drove inside you again and again and your quickening breaths and moans were the only thing to be heard in the room. Then, when it seemed that he couldn't thrust deeper, he had pulled up one of your legs, drapping it over his shoulder, and the new angle made you cry his name out like a prayer. Not that name, he had said. Not Snatcher, but the other one, the old one from before. He had given it to you and you had called it until your voice had gone hoarse with use.

In the end, you managed to last until he came and the new erratic pace proved to be too much for you. He held you close as his orgasm crashed over him like waves in a stormy sea, and still held you as you came down from your own high and your body went limp. You managed to wave away his feeble attempt to apologize for giving you the best orgasm you'd had in a while and pulled him inside the covers, where you could keep warm. You could feel beads of sweat trace their paths down as they fell, and the cold night air bite into your skin, and decided against showering again. Right now, what you needed was a good rest.

If you had been more aware, you would have been surprised at how you drifted off, the Snatcher nestled against you. As it was however, you could only feel content and warm as the snowstorm raged outside and the warm body besides you lulled you to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> This should be a one shot but idk if I'll write a second chapter from Snatcher's perspective. Thoughts?


End file.
